


Eternal Incognito

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: BDSM, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-27
Updated: 2006-02-27
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8078323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trust is strained to the limit—and broken—in the aftermath of a brutal attack. But things aren't what they seem. (09/09/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 2.09 "Singularity," 2.25 "Bounty."

Beta reader(s): Elf. Cheersâ€”it wouldn't have been finished without you, or have a title! Thanks for all your help.  


* * *

Malcolm Reed shivered in his sleep and curled in on himself. The twinge of sore muscles was not enough to wake him fully, instead one hand groped for the blanket. He could not find it.

Grunting in annoyance he opened his eyes and struggled to sit up, but stopped raised up on his elbows.

His quarters were...out of order. That was the only way to describe them. The desk chair was tipped over on its side, the over blankets were pooled at the foot of the bed and the under sheet was in a crumpled heap at the side of the bed. Puzzled, Reed stretched out a hand and plucked the sheet from the floor, holding it up. Or holding what was left of it up. The sheet had been ripped to shreds. With mounting horror Reed noticed that a strip from the sheet was wound around his wrist. Not wanting to look but having to anyway, Reed slowly lowered the sheet and stared down his body to his ankles.

A sick feeling of nausea roiled in his gut. He was in worse shape than his quarters. His other wrist, although free from the sheeting, nevertheless showed unmistakable abrasions proving that it too had been tied. Scratches and bruises covered his torso and thighs; his ankles were still wrapped in strips of sheeting although the ends dangled free. And the evidence of his ejaculate drying at his groin was obvious.

In a burst of sickening memory the previous evening came back to him and with it the nausea exploded. Reed scrabbled off the bed, crawling desperately to the head where he convulsively vomited into the pan.

"You're very quiet this morning, Commander." Sato smiled as she sipped her coffee.

Tucker looked up from the PADD he was reading. "Yeah, well I didn't get much sleep last night." he said flatly.

Hoshi didn't notice his tone. She giggled. "I take it Malcolm really liked his anniversary present then?"

Tucker grimaced. "I didn't get a chance to give it to him."

Hoshi frowned. "You're kidding. Don't tell me. He forgot your anniversary and was working overtime."

"Something like that." Tucker growled.

Hoshi patted his arm in comfort. "Don't worry about it, Trip. I'm sure he'll make it up to you." She raised her head as a figure passed behind them. "Morning, Sub-commander."

T'Pol nodded, "Ensign, Commander."

Sato gestured at an empty seat. "Care to join us?"

T'Pol gracefully sat down. "Thank you." Before she had finished saying the word, Tucker pushed back his chair.

"I have to get to Engineering. See you later, Hoshi."

Sato watched him leave the mess hall with surprise. "Guess he really is upset." she muttered.

"I understood that Commander Tucker had no duty shift today?"

"Plans change all the time."

"Indeed they do." T'Pol took a calm sip of her tea.

The first thing to do was get rid of the evidence.

Reed scrubbed and scrubbed at his body, telling himself that he was only ensuring that there could be no DNA traces found. He was not going to make a complaint. No one would believe him anyway. And he could not put a senior officer through a trial. Too many things could come out. Too many lives could be ruined, the disgrace to Starfleet. No, much better to forget it ever happened, just get on with things. Get clean. Oh, how he wished he could get clean.

At last the water alarm sounded and a few seconds later the water shut off. Reed continued scrubbing at his arm for a few moments before he realised that the water had stopped. With a sigh he stepped from the cubicle and snagged a towel to dry himself.

Then, knowing he could not put it off any longer, he turned to the mirror.

He looked himself over, critically. His skin was pink from the heat of the water and the vigorous washing he'd subjected himself to. But it wasn't too bad. His uniform would cover most of the marks. He'd just have to hope that he was not sent on any away missions that would require the use of an EV suit over the next few days, until the marks faded and until he'd decided what to do.

The wrists were a problem though. He'd have to be very careful about keeping his cuffs lowered. But the real difficulty was the bruise on his temple. Even his fringe could not hide it. That meant a trip to sickbay and inevitable questions...and lies.

Screwing up his courage, Reed returned to his main room and quickly got dressed. Then, with a grimace of distaste, he pulled the soiled bedclothes from the bed and began to stuff them into the laundry chute.

Then he stopped. The bedclothes held evidence too. Reed clamped down on a wave of panic. He had to think.

If he just shoved them down the chute, there was no telling when they might be cleaned or what the person cleaning them would think. Anxiously Reed checked the material. Damn, blood and semen had soaked in. He couldn't send them down in this state.

He could wash them first. He glanced back to the washroom. But no, he could just imagine what the lower ranks would say about that uptight Brit who had to wash his sheets before he sent them for cleaning. And why did he have to do that? Ho, ho, ho. No, that would be worse, almost.

That meant they had to be destroyed, utterly. The waste reclamation system was totally automated. If he put the blankets into the system they would be broken down to their component molecules within seconds.

Reed dropped the sheets to the floor and hunted around for some kind of container, righting the desk chair as he did so. His eye fell on the gaudily wrapped present sitting on his desk alongside the two glasses and the bowl of chocolates, and he gave an involuntary cry of despair, tears pricking his eyes. After last night, that was over too.

Reed sniffed, taking a deep breath, then grabbed a Starfleet issue utility bag. He knelt beside the pile of blankets on the floor and began stuffing them into the bag with violent strokes. He had some trouble with the fastenings until, with a snarl from Reed, they caught and held.

Reed sat back on his heels. His hands were itching. Reed made a quick detour to wash his hands again, then he picked up the bag and headed for the door. On the threshold he looked back. His quarters were orderly again. He could make up the bed when he got back. Perhaps he could request different quarters, if he decided to stay.

Reed thumbed the door release and hefted the bag, intending to get rid of the incriminating evidence on his way to sickbay. He smoothed his hair over the bruise and began rehearsing his story.

The Jeffries tube echoed with the rhythmic banging of metal on metal.

Trip Tucker raised the hammer over and over again bringing it crashing down on the deck plating. Sweat pored off Tucker's face and his knees were getting sore, but he didn't stop. He was hoping that the noise would drown out the thoughts in his head. It wasn't working.

"Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. Christ, if it was that important to him we could have worked something out. He didn't have to go running off to the first person to accommodate him." He snorted. "And who would have thought that...that..." Even in his own head Tucker could not come up with a suitably dire epithet for his crewmate. "Well, they're welcome to each other. Finally got everything you wanted, didn't you, Malcolm? You bastard." Tucker brought the hammer down with all his strength. The force of it jarred the hammer from his slick grip and it bounced down the tube with a clatter.

Tucker sank onto the wall of the tube, flexing his hand. With dismay he saw the blisters forming and he shook his head. "Why, Malcolm?" he whispered. "That's what I don't understand. Why?"

Tucker jerked as he heard a soft beeping from his communicator. Sighing he flipped it open. "Tucker here."

"Ah, Commander." Archer's voice came over the comm. "Where are you? No, don't tell me. You're in Jeffries tube 27, Section C, am I right?"

Tucker was too tired and too heartsick to wonder at the captain's game. "That's right, sir."

"Do you know how many of the Gamma shift crew have quarters in that section, Commander?"

"No."

"Nearly all of them. Your repairs have woken up a lot of people, Trip. A lot of unhappy people."

"Join the club," thought Tucker, sourly. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm done here. Tell them to go back to sleep."

"Good. Trip, what are you doing working anyway? You practically begged me for today off."

Tucker closed his eyesâ€”and got an instant snapshot of the previous evening. "Didn't even have the decency to be embarrassed," Trip thought, "only terrified that I'd found out." Aloud he said, "Change of plans, Captain. Tucker out." He closed the communicator with a snap and glanced at the deck plating. He was surprised to see that he'd almost knocked a hole clean through it. Well, it would have to be replaced. But it would have to wait until he'd had his hand seen to. Awkwardly Tucker began to crawl through the tube.

"Mmn, this doesn't look like a sparring injury, Lieutenant. What happened?"

Reed felt the panic flare again. Phlox had just discounted his first choice explanation. "It's a bit embarrassing, Doctor."

"Mr Reed, I'm a doctor, I could tell you no end of 'embarrassing' stories, but there is the small matter of confidentiality, yes?"

Reed sighed and looked away while Phlox ran the dermal regenerator over his forehead. "I was reading a PADD, I opened the door to the Armoury, the door release malfunctioned and, BAM, walked straight into it."

Phlox tutted. "You should be more careful, Lieutenant." He put down the regenerator. "There, all done." He turned away to fetch a container from the side. Reed swiftly pocketed the dermal regenerator while Phlox continued. "The swelling should go down in a couple of days, but this cream will help with any discomfort." He handed the pot to Reed. "There was no concussion, but you will let me know if you suffer any further distress, headaches, things of that nature."

"Of course, Doctor." Reed prepared to leave.

"You did report this malfunctioning door, Lieutenant? I'd hate to have a spate of these injuries."

"Yes, Engineering fixed it."

"Good. I...ah, Commander, what can I do for you?"

Reed stiffened and turned round.

Tucker's eyes slid coldly over the Lieutenant before talking to Phlox. "Bit of a problem, Doc, if you're not too busy."

"Not at all, the Lieutenant is all patched up."

Nothing, no emotion, not even a flicker showed in Tucker's eyes. Reed shuffled to the sickbay doors, trying not to wince when Tucker deliberately moved away to the furthest biobed. "Thanks for your time, Doctor." he said quietly and moved into the corridor.

Outside, Reed swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat. Before last night any injury to either of them would have garnered professional concern on duty and loving attention off duty. Tucker couldn't care less whether he lived or died. In fact Tucker would probably prefer the latter.

The sob was now insistently trying to escape and Reed quashed it ruthlessly. There were still so many tracks to cover and he had to prepare himself for the next inevitable meeting with the other one.

Phlox tisked over Tucker's hand. "This crew has an amazing propensity for self-inflicted injuries," he muttered as he examined the commander's hand. "If it's not Mr Mayweather and climbing accidents, it's Mr Reed and doors..." the doctor's voice faded to an unintelligible mumble before he straightened up with a bright smile. "Dermal regenerator should do the trick." He bustled back towards the biobed where he had treated Reed.

"You're being a bit hard on Travis, aren't you, Doc? It was an accident."

"Oh, indubitably." Phlox looked around sickbay with a puzzled expression.

Tucker rolled his shoulders. "I suppose you'd prefer it if we all walked around swaddled in cotton wool?"

"That would make my position as a doctor rather redundant." Phlox was waving his hands about as if he was miming an action in a game of charades.

"Something wrong, Doc?"

"My dermal regenerator is missing. I had it while I was treating Mr Reed just a moment ago."

"Perhaps he took it."

Phlox crossed to one of his cabinets, opened a drawer, saw that he had not returned the equipment and took out a spare regenerator. "I hardly think so. There is nothing in Mr Reed's medical history which would suggest kleptomaniac tendencies."

"Yeah, well sometimes you don't know people as well as you thought you did." Tucker said, bitterly.

Phlox had not heard the strange comment. "Now, let's deal with that hand, Commander..."

Tucker tuned out the doctor's prattle and concentrated on his seething thoughts; "You took it alright, you son of a bitch. Need it to get rid of the evidence don't you. Theft of Starfleet equipment, misuse of Starfleet equipment, you just keep racking it up. All because you like it rough, you little shit."

"There you are, Commander. Good as new."

Tucker shook himself, mustered up a smile and hopped down from the biobed. "Thanks, Doc. Much appreciated."

"Any time." Phlox waved him out and then turned to search for the missing regenerator.

Malcolm stretched sinuously, gently tugging on the restraints as he raised his head to kiss his lover. He was so proud of Trip, so grateful to him. Malcolm had wanted to do this for Trip for quite some time. Malcolm wanted to show Trip just how much he trusted him in a way that went beyond words. Actions spoke louder, as a wise man once said...

Their lips met and Malcolm opened his mouth allowing his lover to dive in. Malcolm enjoyed Trip's plunder of his mouth, but his neck was getting sore, he'd have to ask Trip for another pillow to brace it. He let his head fall back and opened his eyes.

His request died in the bright panic that engulfed him. It was not Trip. Oh, God, it was not Trip.

The normally pristine capped hair was in disarray, the normally serene features were twisted in a grotesque parody of passion.

"You want this. You've always wanted this." She lowered her head intent on kissing him again.

"No!"

Malcolm screamed and tumbled out of his bed, scrambling away as quickly as he could. "Computer, lights."

Reed blinked in the sudden illumination, it was enough to check that his quarters were empty. He crouched on the floor, hugging his stomach, willing himself not to be sick again.

He could not stay here. What if it happened again? She knew where he was. She could find him anytime she wanted. He needed to find somewhere safe...Trip's quarters. No he was not welcome there anymore. He needed somewhere safe, defensible...the Armoury? No, little cover, besides it would probably be the first place she'd look. So, somewhere safe, defensible and unusual. Now he knew where to go.

Moving somewhat erratically Reed dressed himself and then packed a few essentials willy-nilly into another utility bag. Then he left his quarters, trying not to run.

He would erase his biosign from the internal sensors; she wouldn't be able to find him then. And Reed couldn't believe she'd go so far as physically searching the ship for him.

That thought stopped Reed cold. If T'Pol couldn't find him would she turn on another member of the crew? Trip? The Captain? Travis?

T'Pol was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming because there was no colour in her vision. Enterprise's corridors were a series of grey shadows. T'Pol thought that it was curious that she was dreaming. Since the unfortunate experience with T'Laris, T'Pol had been punctilious about her meditation regimen.

But this time she was not afraid or experiencing any discomfort. On the contrary she was intrigued and excited? Certainly feeling a heightened sense of anticipation.

And so T'Pol embraced the dream and followed it through the corridors at last stopping outside the door to a crewmember's quarters. The anticipation increased as T'Pol watched her own hand key in an over- ride code and she felt the first twinge of disquiet. She had thought that she would never voluntarily violate another's privacy. She appreciated her own too highly.

Nevertheless, she was stepping through, the door closing softly behind her.

The cabin was dim, the lights on their lowest setting, but it was enough to make out the figure of Lieutenant Reed sprawled across his bed, one arm flung over his eyes, obviously asleep.

T'Pol was surprised. To her knowledge she had never been in the Lieutenant's quarters before, much less seen the Lieutenant in such peaceful repose. And yet, everything seemed familiar. From the neat desk with two champagne flutes and a glass bowl filled with chocolates and topped with a ribbon, to the way the blankets were pooled at the bottom of the bed.

Curious, T'Pol mused. She had not realised that it was possible to create a different reality in a dream state. True, T'Pol had experienced the unwanted advances of T'Laris during his mind-meld with her, but she had always assumed that it was T'Laris's own desires which had overwhelmed her control. Thinking of that fateful joining, T'Pol was again surprised, this time by the wave of desire which pulsed through her. Desire for possession.

The emotion was almost enough to throw her from the dream, but not quite. She saw herself move forward towards the bed and carefully settle herself over the lieutenant's hips. The hand came out again, gently removing his arm from his face while the other tenderly stroked back a lock of hair.

The desire was coming in stronger and stronger waves now and she could feel herself smile as the lieutenant stirred slightly beneath her. His eyelids were beginning to flutter, "Trip?" and the desire was gone, crushed under a flood of anger. Not Trip! She bent forward to claim his mouth as her's...

And T'Pol sat bolt upright in her bed. Her breathing was panicked, her skin crawling with perspiration, her heart racing.

"The essence of logic is control. I am in control." she muttered the words automatically, clinging to them like a child clinging to its mother when afraid. She hardly recognised her own voice. "I am in control," she repeated, and again, "I am in control."

Gradually her breathing evened out and her heart rate slowed to more normal levels. Rising, she padded into the washroom, ran the water, pooled some in her hand and swallowed, ignoring the slightly metallic taste. Her hand was shaking.

T'Pol had no idea what was causing such powerful reactions. She wiped her hands and returned to her cabin. She was reluctant to go back to sleep right away and instead decided that extra meditation would be beneficial.

"I can find no evidence of forced sexual activity, Lieutenant."

"I explained that, Doctor. I removed it all."

"Yes? And the story about the Armoury door?"

"I made it up."

"And, tell me, Lieutenant, because I seem to be confused, why would you lie to me?"

"I didn't want to get the sub-commander into trouble."

Phlox snorted angrily his eyes flashing. "And yet, you have no qualms about coming to me now, with no evidence! No evidence but your own duplicity. Have you any idea how much damage false allegations of this nature could do to the sub-commander's career?"

"Nah, he doesn't care, Doc." Tucker moved menacingly towards the two. "All he cares about is covering up his own guilt."

"That's not true, Trip." Malcolm pleaded. "It wasn't my fault, I swear." he reached out in supplication, but Tucker pulled back his arm.

"Don't touch me, Malcolm, you're dirty."

"No..." Malcolm moaned as he came awake. He could feel the wetness of his tears on his cheek.

He was huddled behind a pile of containers in Cargo Bay 2. The instinct to hide away had been too great to resist.

Impatiently, Reed wiped away his tears and deepened his breathing, calming himself. He had to decide what to do.

Okay, look at the situation logically. Reed suppressed a shudder. No, look at the situation tactically.

He had been raped. There, he'd said it. He had been coerced into sexual intercourse against his will.

The shakes were back. Reed waited a few moments, concentrating on his breathing.

His rap...attacker was his superior officer, from a different branch of service. What bearing did that have on the case?

It meant that T'Pol most likely would have the full weight of the High Command behind her. The Vulcans may have ordered her transfer from Enterprise in the past, but that had been their choice. Reed was sure the Vulcan High Command would not hesitate to defend one of their own from what they would undoubtedly consider a scurrilous and malicious accusation. They would cite Vulcan superiority managing their emotions; they would declare it impossible for a Vulcan to behave in such a highly illogical fashion. 

Reed could hardly credit it himself. He had wasted precious seconds denying the evidence of his own eyes as she held him down.

The Vulcans would say that he was deliberately smearing the reputation of the sub-commander in the hope that she would be transferred and his lover, Commander Tucker, would be elevated to the First Officer's position. No matter that it was over now. It would come out. It was bound to in the course of any investigation. And that would give a plausible motive for lying about T'Pol.

I'm not bloody lying! Breathe, breathe.

Where had he got to? Right, if he accused T'Pol, publicly, he would have to expect a great deal of, unpleasantness. He would have to expect that his own life would be put under the microscope. Every decision he'd made, every relationship he'd had, perhaps even the couple of one-night-stands he'd had, if they could be found. Hell, he wasn't proud of them, but it didn't mean he deserved what she had done.

Not helping.

So, to sum up, if he accused T'Pol, he'd be in as much, if not more, shit than she was. It would come down to her word against his, since he'd done such a bang up job of destroying any evidence. It would come down to the word of two exemplary officers (up until now), both somewhat solitary...

Trip knew different right enough.

But was Trip for the prosecution or the defence? Yes, he'd seen them, but Trip had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Reed tried to smother the dull ache of pain. It was worse somehow. It was that which was killing him. Trip had seen them and it was as if, as if he'd been expecting it.

Reed sniffed and decided that Tucker was definitely in T'Pol's defence camp. Trip would testify to their conversations about bondage games, how Malcolm had urged Tucker to tie him up, how Reed had always had a 'thing' for T'Pol, or at least her bum...Reed cringed in his hidey-hole. Trip would testify that he'd never known about Reed's plan for his promotion, but it had back-fired, because they were over, finished, kaput, ended...Every synonym reverberated in Reed's head.

And on top of all that...Vulcans did not lie.

If he told his tale, it would ruin everything not already ruined.

If he stayed quiet, he could request a transfer, get away with at least his career intact.

And if he stayed quiet, and she did it again to someone else? He'd never forgive himself.

T'Pol walked slowly through the Enterprise corridors. The resemblance to her dream was almost overwhelming, but this was no dream. Lights, consoles all blinked with rich colour. Then she found herself outside that door again. She hesitated, rang the chime. There was no answer. She rang again, still no answer. She turned to one of the panels and spoke clearly. "Computer, location of Lieutenant Reed."

"Lieutenant Reed is in Cargo Bay 2."

T'Pol thought it unusual that the lieutenant was in a cargo bay at this time of the morning, however, it did mean that he was unlikely to disturb her. And she needed to know. Before she could question what she was doing she entered her over-ride code and stepped through. The door slid shut behind her.

The lights were on at full illumination, that was different. But the lay out of the room was identical. Desk, chair, locker, cabinet, all exactly as they were in her dream. No chocolate, or champagne glasses, no lieutenant, no bedclothes. T'Pol frowned feeling that twitch of unease again. The bed had been stripped, leaving only the bare mattress.

Pondering the scene, T'Pol quietly left Reed's quarters.

Reed straightened his uniform. He had already packed up his things, somewhat more neatly than he had the previous night, and he had finally decided on a course of action.

He would watch T'Pol. If it looked as if she was unstable in any way, he would tell someone his ordeal, and damn the consequences.

If she was normal...that was trickier. He would have to couch his warning in more ambiguous terms, before he left Enterprise. Because he had to leave Enterprise.

He tensed as he heard the doors to the cargo bay open.

"Who's been playing around with the lock out on this thing?"

No, not Trip. Not now.

"Never mind, we'll deal with it later. You get the manifolds, Billy, I'll get the sealant."

Reed looked around frantically. Nowhere to run. And his brilliant hidey-hole was made up of containers emblazoned with 'Valve Sealant' all over them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Tucker rounded the end of the containers and stood belligerently with his hands on his hips.

"I..." Reed could not think of a single reasonable excuse for his presence there.

Tucker's face darkened. "Oh, I get it. It's not enough to cheat, that's not enough excitement for you," Tucker's tone was biting in its sarcasm, "No, you need more of an edge. You pair need somewhere more public. Never had either of you down as exhibitionists, but then, what do I know?" Tucker stepped back, his fists clenched, his arms trembling. "Better go, Lieutenant. You'll be late for your shift."

"Trip, please."

"Just go." Tucker turned away and crossed his arms.

Reed hesitated. All he wanted was his lover's comfort, his understanding. A part of Malcolm wanted to believe that if he told Trip what had happened, right now, Trip would believe him. Trip would hold him, and tell him everything would work out. Trip would rail against T'Pol, he'd jump down her throat, he'd champion Reed through thick and thin. They'd make it through this together.

The engineer stayed silent, his posture rigid.

Reed quietly crossed the bay and thumbed the door release. The door opened and Reed stepped through. He glanced back. Tucker hadn't moved. "I'm sorry, Trip." he whispered.

Tucker's equally bereft, "Me too." was lost to Reed's ears as the door swished shut.

PART 2

Jonathan Archer was a worried man, although he tried not to show it.

It was comparatively easy not to show his worry on duty. His crew made allowances for the general, run-of the-mill, concerns about first contacts, diplomatic meetings and the like. But that was not what he was worrying about.

He was worrying about his command crew. Or more specifically, his three most senior command crew.

Since the singularity, things had changedâ€”some were superficial. They now had the 'Reed Alert'.

The Lieutenant had steadfastly ignored all the good-natured teasing he'd received for introducing the alert. Archer assumed Reed had ignored it because he knew, as Archer did, that it was a damn good idea. But lately? Archer was beginning to think that Reed ignored it because he didn't hear.

In the last few weeks Reed's attention had been fixed on Sub- commander T'Pol. If he didn't know better, Archer would think that the lieutenant was, well, sweet on the sub-commander. But that was ridiculous. Reed would no more 'fraternise' with T'Pol than he would with, with Porthos.

As for his science officerâ€”her deterioration had been slower, but it was now unmistakable. No matter how much she tried to hide it, T'Pol was looking rough around the edges. Shadows under her eyes, an unfocussed look when she wasn't concentrating on a task. Considering his Science Officer that was tantamount to deep emotional upheaval.

And as for the Chief Engineer...Archer shook his head. His best friend was in the pits, no doubt about it. Jon could not, for the life of him, fathom why. Prior to the singularity, Tucker had been his usual, ebullient self. Serious when needed, but enjoying the thrill of exploration all the time, even when all he was exploring was the maintenance tubes in the bowels of the ship.

Everything had changed, for the worse. There was a wariness about Tucker and Reed that hadn't been there before. And T'Pol seemed more oblivious to everything now.

For the first time in his life, Archer was unsure about what to do.

She'd done nothing. For weeks T'Pol had acted normally. She had not tried to approach him, or any other member of the crew, as far as he was aware.

What if they did what you did and tried to cover it up?

But Reed would not let himself think that. He'd done everything he could. He never did get around to erasing his biosign from the sensors; instead he'd programmed a receiver for T'Pol's biosign. So far she'd been on the bridge, in her quarters, sickbay twice, engineering once, the mess hall, the captain's mess, and always in the company of two or more biosigns. Except in her quarters when she was alone and except in sickbay. There she was alone with Phlox. But his own trips to sickbay immediately after her visits found a hale and healthy doctor displaying no trauma, only helpfulness.

Reed was beginning to run out of excuses for his 'headaches'.

But it wouldn't matter now. Not too much anyway, he hoped.

Reed sat back in his desk chair, his hand hovering over the 'send' command for internal communications.

For the last time, he re-read the wording, checking that it said all he wanted it to say, without sounding officious, or maudlin, or without causing offence...

He sighed. It was as clear as he could make it. He pressed 'send'.

Reed stood up, looking around. The cabin looked as if someone was about to move in. All his belongings were packed away; ready to go at the most convenient pick-up point. Nothing remained of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed in this room.

It had taken a lot of courage to come back to these quarters, but in the end, it was worth it. Malcolm was sure that now, having seen the sterile quarters, he would be able to put the past behind him. He just hoped that the next person to occupy this cabin would have more luck than he had.

"Doctor, I need your assistance."

Doctor Phlox buried his instinctive concern under a mask of polite curiosity. "How can I help you, Sub-commander?" This was the third time in as many weeks that the science officer had asked for treatment.

T'Pol glanced around sickbay. The doctor was the only one present, but she still felt exposed. "It is a highly personal matter, one which I am uncomfortable discussing in a place where we might be interrupted."

Phlox inclined his head. "As you wish, Sub-commander. My office?" Phlox expansively waved T'Pol forward. When they were settled with the office door shut Phlox repeated, "How can I help you?"

"I have had, am having, disturbing dreams."

"These dreams are having a detrimental effect on your sleep patterns?" The doctor brandished a scanner. "May I?"

T'Pol nodded her acceptance, then kept her head still while the doctor performed his scans. "Yes, Doctor. The dreams have disrupted my sleep patterns."

"You did not mention this before. Are you meditating regularly?"

"Yes."

"And, forgive me, Sub-commander, do you feel that you are under unusual stress?"

"No more so than the rest of the crew."

"Indeed." Phlox eyed the readings. "Increased synaptic activity, increased endorphin production. Tell me, Sub-commander, do you believe that there is an external reason for your difficulties?"

"I do not believe so."

"Nevertheless, over the last few weeks you have consulted me twice, both times because of nausea on waking. At the time I believed the nausea could be traced to, in the first instance, Ensign Sato's enchiladas and in the second, Crewman Kelly's 'Baked Alaska', neither of which foodstuffs should be eaten by a Vulcan, especially after a shuttle trip." The doctor smiled and held up a forestalling hand. "Now I know you have not been on any shuttle trips in the last twenty four hours. Have you experienced any nausea?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Have you eaten anything inordinately spicy, or cold, in the last twenty four hours?"

T'Pol shook her head.

"So!" Phlox said the word as if he was Archimedes shouting 'Eureka'. He waved the scanner. "I conclude that your problem is not physiological, but psychological."

"The dreams." T'Pol said flatly.

"Exactly!" Phlox curbed his enthusiasm and settled himself down. "Tell me about your dreams, Sub-commander."

T'Pol suddenly stood up and began to pace. Phlox watched her in amazement. Then she sat down and composed herself.

"My dreams are violent..." Phlox nodded encouragingly. "Carnal, disturbing." she finished.

"My dear, Sub-commander. This is nothing to worry about. Every sentient life form I've ever come across fantasises to some extent..."

"You don't understand, Doctor." T'Pol gripped Phlox's arm in a vice. "I'm not fantasising, I'm remembering."

Tucker pushed his substantial leftovers around on his plate. A burst of laughter had him raising his head and he couldn't help himself smiling.

Travis and Hoshi were squabbling over some card game like a pair of infants. Tucker wished he could join them. But he knew he would not be good company.

Malcolm's betrayal had touched him on a level he had never thought he'd feel again. He never thought that he'd have to feel it again. He'd been so sure that Reed was the one and then, to find them like that. The look of panic in Reed's eyes when he realised he'd been found out. It hurt deep down in his bones.

Wearily Tucker got to his feet, dumped his tray and headed for engineering. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his professional demeanour, especially when the senior officers were gathered together. But he had to. He would not give those lying, cheating...scumbags, the satisfaction of seeing him crack.  
"A memory." Phlox stated calmly.

"Yes." T'Pol released the doctor's arm and retook her seat.

"Is this memory the same every time, or does it change?"

T'Pol considered the question. "Not change, as such. Rather, more is revealed each time."

"Despite your meditation."

"Yes, Doctor, despite my meditation."

"And what is revealed?"

"I am walking through the corridors. I reach Lieutenant Reed's quarters. I open the door and enter. I see Lieutenant Reed. I wish to," T'Pol's detachment faltered for a moment, "I wish to copulate with him." Doctor Phlox made a supreme effort at keeping his expression neutral. "I..." T'Pol swallowed. "I..." her hands moved, helplessly.

"Sit?" Phlox suggested.

T'Pol shook her head, her hands held out at right angles to her body, still trembling.

"You straddle the lieutenant?"

T'Pol relaxed. "Yes, that's what I do."

"And then?"

"He's sleeping. He is serene. And I like that." She turned to face Phlox, and he pulled back.

Trying to stay calm himself, Phlox asked, "What happens then?"

"Lieutenant Reed begins to wake up and I become angered."

"Angered? Does he refuse your advances? Is that what makes you angry?"

T'Pol paused wondering how much she should reveal to the doctor. She was disclosing actions which she was convinced would end in her dismissal and disgrace, but the truth of why she had become so volatile was not her secret to tell. At last she said, "It is possible."

Phlox noted the hesitation and the evasion, but motioned for her to continue.

"Lieutenant Reed attempts to free himself. He is able to unbalance me, but he trips and falls to the floor as he attempts to leave his quarters. I pursue him and hit his head on the floor." A spark of memory ignited in Phlox's head at that. "The lieutenant is rendered unconscious and I return him to his bed. I use the time to tear his bedding and tie him in place." she stopped again.

"And when the lieutenant regains consciousness?" Phlox asked gently.

"He talks to me, tries to reason with me. I don't want to listen. I use some of the bedding to close his mouth. The lieutenant struggles, he tries to break free, but he is unable to do so. I...I...use him." T'Pol swallowed her bile. She could not bring herself to elaborate further, her own disgust at her actions was too strong.

"And then?"

"I don't know." It was the one part of the whole sorry tale that she was unsure of. "I assume that I leave the lieutenant's quarters and return to my own."

Phlox was lost in thought. The minutes ticked by before he roused himself. "As I see it," he said gravely, "there are two possibilities. The first is that this dream is a fabrication. The events that you describe did not take place except in your own mind." Phlox ignored T'Pol's negation of his theory. "If that is the case a more intensive meditation cycle may help to alleviate your distress. The second possibility is that you are correct in your hypothesis that the events took place. And I am afraid that I can see only one way to confirm or deny that hypothesis, which we must do before we proceed. We must ask Lieutenant Reed for his opinion."

Reed sat at his station.

The captain had been in his ready room for at least an hour. He should have got Reed's request by now.

Sato looked up from her console. "Lieutenant? Doctor Phlox is requesting you in sickbay."

Reed tried to smirk. "Is it time for my shots already?"

Sato grinned. "He doesn't say, sir."

Reed put his console into 'standby' mode. "Tell the doctor, I'm on my way, Ensign."

Archer read through the message again. It was short and to the point. He could not fault the writer's syntax, but...Archer huffed...he deserved an explanation. He walked out onto the bridge. He looked around for Reed but there was no sign of him. "Hoshi, where's Malcolm?"

"The Doctor wanted to see him, sir."

"Right." Archer wondered if he should follow, but then dismissed the idea. The meeting would be private.

Reed walked slowly to sickbay, his terror growing with every step. His receiver showed that T'Pol was in sickbay. Only the thought that she could attack Phlox kept him moving. If she did he would be culpable.

With a deep breath he keyed open the doors to sickbay and stepped through, glancing warily around, "Doctor?"

Phlox bustled forward. "Ah, good of you to join us, Lieutenant."

"Us?" He knew T'Pol was somewhere around, but he wanted confirmation.

"Sub-commander T'Pol is in my office. There is a private matter that we believe you can help us with. I would like to lock the door so that we are not disturbed?"

Reed's unease ratcheted up another notch. "I would prefer it if you did not, Doctor."

Phlox noted the increased agitation in the lieutenant and did not push him. "Very well." The doctor motioned towards a biobed and then settled on one, keeping himself between Reed and the door to his office. He saw Reed glance towards the sickbay doors and he did not sit down. Phlox continued, "Sub-commander T'Pol has waived doctor/patient confidentiality so that I might speak to you about this matter, however, I would ask you to keep our discussion confidential until such time as it become needful for others to be informed."

Reed was confused but he nodded his assent.

"Thank you. For the last several weeks the sub-commander has been having difficulty sleeping..." Reed felt a brief flash of vicious pleasure. "...Owing to some very disturbing dreams."

Reed grunted noncommittally; she wasn't the only one.

"The sub-commander is concerned that these dreams do not represent figments of her imagination, but actual memories, and since they involve you I have to ask you to confirm or deny the events. Forgive me, Lieutenant, there is no delicate way to put this. Did Sub- commander T'Pol assault you in your quarters?"

Reed stumbled back against the biobed. He felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. "Are you telling me," he asked through hitching breaths, "that she just forgot what she did?"

"Oh, Lieutenant." Phlox's voice was heavy with sympathy. "Why did you not tell anybody?"

"How could I? She's my superior officer. She's Vulcan. No one would believe me. Even my own love..." Reed stopped abruptly.

"Your own lover?"

Reed nodded miserably. "He didn't believe me and he saw us."

And in a blaze of understanding Phlox thought that he had found the main motivation for Reed keeping the attack a secret. Any trial or court martial would undoubtedly uncover the lieutenant's relationship with another man. And while Starfleet was an equal opportunity organisation, it was a sad fact that individuals within that organisation were not immune to prejudice. Reed doubtless was unwilling to compromise either his or his partner's career by seeking retribution. Phlox sighed. This situation would require a great deal of sensitivity. "May I inform sub-commander T'Pol that her suppositions were correct?" he gestured to the office door.

Reed nodded wearily.

"Do you think you could see her? I believe she would wish to, apologise." Phlox shrugged, he knew how inadequate that would be.

Reed shook his head, "Not right now, Phlox."

"I understand. Perhaps you would like some time to process this? I can relieve you of duty?"

Reed was going to refuse, until he saw the tremble in his hands. "Just for the rest of the day?"

"Naturally." He ushered the lieutenant towards the doors. "If there is anything you need, Mr Reed, at any time, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Phlox." Reed said quietly, recognising in the warmth of the physician's voice that he meant to help, not just as a doctor, but also as a friend.

The doors closed behind the officer. Phlox made a quick detour to update the duty rosters and then straightening his back he entered his office.

T'Pol had not moved since the doctor went out to greet the lieutenant, now she swivelled slowly in her seat and waited.

"You were correct." Phlox wasted no time with preamble. He saw an expression of revulsion cross T'Pol's face and knew it was directed at herself.

T'Pol stood up. "Thank you, Doctor. I will inform the captain. I will need to be confined to quarters until a suitable transport can be found. I expect that it will take some time to make arrangements for a court martial, however, you can assure Lieutenant Reed that I will not contest the charges."

"You are being rather presumptuous, Sub-commander. There are a number of factors which you have not taken into account."

"Explain." T'Pol sat down again.

"First and foremost, you are disregarding Lieutenant Reed's feelings in the matter. Mr Reed went to a great deal of trouble to conceal your attack. He may have had good reason for doing so, and until he decides how much he wants revealed, you would do well to put his welfare first. It may assuage your guilt to confess, but it may do more harm than good to Mr Reed. It is his decision."

"I do not believe that anything would alleviate the regret I feel about my actions, Doctor, but I understand your reasoning."

"Secondly. I presume you wish to be confined to quarters because you are concerned that you pose a threat to the crew?"

"It is a logical assumption to make."

"I disagree, or at least, I don't completely agree. This attack took place several weeks ago. Since that time you have become increasingly unsettled, yet despite this you have made no aggressive moves towards any other crewmembers. Correct?"

"That is correct."

"Therefore, it raises the possibility that some unknown element was present at the time of the attack which caused you to lose control."

They were both thinking of the singularity the ship had encountered which had caused so many strange behaviours.

"It would be logical to test this theory, and for that I need you in sickbay."

"Very well, Doctor. I defer to you."

"Shall we?" Phlox followed the sub-commander into the main body of sickbay.

PART 3

Captain Archer was getting impatient to see his armoury officer and when the officer at tactical was relieved by another security officer he could not hide his surprise. "Ensign? Where is Lieutenant Reed?"

"The lieutenant was relieved of duty, sir. Medical orders."

"I see, thanks, Ensign." Archer turned to the screen in the arm of his chair and pulled up the duty rosters. He was surprised to find that not only was Lieutenant Reed off duty until the next morning, but that Sub-commander T'Pol had been removed from duty until further notice. Nice of them to let the captain know.

Archer returned to his ready room and commed sickbay.

"Phlox here."

"Doctor, you have removed two of my senior bridge officers from duty without consulting or informing me of your actions. What is going on?"

"My sincerest apologies, Captain. Medical events have overtaken us rather, but you are right, I should have commed you directly."

"What's the situation, Doctor? You can speak freely."

"Sub-commander T'Pol is undergoing a series of tests. The outcome of those tests will determine her fitness for duty. I'm afraid I can't give you a time frame at the moment. Lieutenant Reed is expected to return to duty tomorrow, but please, Captain, do not attempt to contact him right now. He needs his rest."

"Very well, Doctor, keep me informed. Archer out." He closed the comm and rubbed his chin in frustration.

It looked like he was going to have to be patient.

Reed met Phlox in the corridor outside his quarters as he was heading for the mess hall the next morning.

"Lieutenant, sleep well?"

Reed smiled shyly, "Not great, but better than I have for a while."

"Mr Reed I have a favour to ask of you." Phlox checked that the corridor was empty. "If you can, I would like you to come to sickbay to meet with the sub-commander and myself. I have made some discoveries which could help you both to deal with the, occurrence."

Reed was quiet for a long time. They were almost at the mess-hall doors before he answered. "All right, Phlox. I trust you to do whatever is best. When would be convenient?"

"Not until after breakfast," the doctor smiled. "May I join you?"

"I'd like that."

Archer stepped out onto the bridge expecting to see Malcolm Reed back at his post. He was annoyed when he found that the lieutenant was not there.

"Message from Doctor Phlox, Captain. He asked me to tell you that Lieutenant Reed was having some follow-up checks in sickbay this morning."

"Thanks, Hoshi." At least they remembered to let him know this time.

Of the two, it was T'Pol who was visibly more uncomfortable. But then Reed had had three weeks to perfect his professional mask when in the sub-commander's company. At last T'Pol raised her head and looked directly into Reed's eyes.

"Lieutenant, I wish to express to you my deep regret for the pain and distress I have caused you. I know that no matter what I say, it will not be enough, but I assure you I am sincere. In addition, regardless of the doctor's findings, I will not contest any charges you see fit to bring against me."

"Perhaps we should hear what the doctor has to say." Reed could not find it in himself to offer any words of comfort to the sub- commander, not yet anyway. Although he did appreciate her honesty.

"Sub-commander, Lieutenant, I believe I have found the cause of the sub-commander's actions." He displayed some of the scans he had taken on the monitor behind the biobed. "We are all aware of the tight rein Vulcans keep on their emotions. It is a fallacy to suggest that Vulcans are emotionless; they simply control and suppress them. However, every seven years, adult Vulcans enter a state they call 'ponfarr'. This is a time when their control of their emotions is less strong. They are driven by the imperative to mate. This imperative is very potent and can be violent. This is one of the reasons for Vulcan society following the custom of arranged marriages. Parents find it reassuring to find mates for their offspring at an early age. Be that as it may, in the sub-commander's case, her ponfarr was triggered early. And I believe it was triggered by our proximity to the singularity we encountered three weeks ago."

"But the attack took place after we'd left the area."

"That is correct, Mr Reed, but you have not yet grasped the full implications of the early onset of the ponfarr. For the rest of the crew the effect of the singularity was transitory. As soon as we left its influence our neurological patterns stabilised. But for Sub- commander T'Pol the singularity triggered an instinct which is wired into her very DNA. An instinct which drove her to the very brink. Did you know, lieutenant, that is not uncommon for Vulcans to die during the ponfarr if they cannot mate?"

"Die?" Reed asked in a small voice.

T'Pol stirred herself to overcome her natural reticence with this topic. "Do not think, Lieutenant, that this changes the nature of my attack on you. I was not acting with any thought for self-defence. I was not acting with any thought at all. Since the cycle was set prematurely I was not expecting it. I did not recognise the symptoms. If I had, appropriate steps could have been taken so that I was not a danger to the crew. I was negligent in my duties and you were the one to suffer as a result."

Reed paced the length of sickbay then returned to stand before the other two. His eyes flicking back and forth he asked, "Could this happen again?"

"If you mean could the sub-commander lose control again. There is a possibility, yes. There is no way to anticipate how the various phenomena we encounter will affect us. As our recent experience with the singularity proves. None of us were immune. I believe I can help the sub-commander to strengthen her emotional control so that she is no greater risk than any other crewmember. If you mean could this precise incident be repeated, I'm afraid only time will tell. It is impossible to know how this has affected the sub-commander's ponfarr cycle. It may be that she will not experience it for another seven years, it may be that this anomalous cycle will be simply ignored and T'Pol will experience her normal ponfarr in two years time. We shall have to wait and see. However I do believe that the sub-commander is cognisant of the symptoms and will take whatever steps are necessary ahead of time."

"I see." Reed was quiet while he thought about his next actions. At last, with a deep breath, Reed said, "I do not wish to press charges against you, Sub-commander. To be honest, it is something of a relief to find that there was a medical explanation for your conduct. I also believe that you will do your utmost to ensure that there is no repeat." T'Pol inclined her head in acknowledgement and Reed continued, "I also see no logic in depriving Enterprise of two experienced officers. I suppose the captain should be informed of these events, but I request that you leave that until I am gone."

"What?"

"I tendered my resignation yesterday."

"Lieutenant Reed, I do not believe that is the wisest course of action. If you are uncomfortable with my presence on the ship, I should be the one to leave. You can not, must not punish yourself for something you could not prevent."

"I'm the bloody Chief of Security. I should be able to defend myself." It was the first time in weeks that Reed's temper had flared. He'd been too numb.

T'Pol continued unperturbed. "Granted. But you had a number of disadvantages. You were asleep when I first entered your quarters..."

"I should have heard you." Reed muttered.

"It would have made no appreciable difference. I was acting on instinct. If you had woken up and defended yourself you would have been in a fight to the death. Which I would have won." Reed shivered at the certainty he heard in her voice. "While we are close in regards to our height and though you out weigh me, my strength is greater than yours. We are evenly matched in our combat ability, but you would have been fighting to disable me, I would have been fighting to kill. And regardless of the outcome of that night, I am grateful that I did not kill you. I would never have the opportunity to make amends."

T'Pol half raised her hand as if to offer comfort, but stopped unsure of his reaction. Reed could guess what it had cost her to make these admissions, as well as overcoming her species' discomfort at offering physical touch, and he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Forgiveness was not yet possible, but understanding might be.

T'Pol gazed at their hands then back to his face. "You have nothing to reproach yourself for, Lieutenant. Please reconsider your resignation."

"Perhaps I will."

PART 4

"Two out of three ain't bad," Archer mused.

In the two weeks since Malcolm Reed had suddenly given his resignation and then equally suddenly asked to withdraw his request, the man had almost got back to normal. Reed was still cautious in their dealings with other alien races, but he no longer looked as if he was jumping at his own shadow.

T'Pol too was looking much better. She had been back on duty for only one week, but whatever the doctor had done for her it seemed to be working.

That left Commander Tucker. He too seemed to have reached some kind of equilibrium, but his friend was not happy. Tucker only came to the bridge when he was called there and he socialised less. He still ate with the captain regularly and on those occasions seemed like his old self. Archer knew his friend well enough to know that Tucker would talk to him when he was ready and Jon could only hope that it would be soon.

"Have you ever considered three dimensional chess, Lieutenant?"

Reed and T'Pol were in sickbay again, this time for some relaxation after their therapy session. Each one sat on either side of a biobed with a chessboard resting on it.

Reed picked up his knight, rubbing it in his fingers. "These are three dimensional, aren't they? Check."

T'Pol glanced down at the board. She would lose in another three moves. How had she so completely misread the lieutenant's strategy?

"Indeed they are." T'Pol made her move. "But in three dimensional chess, there are three boards, stacked one above the other. The pieces move in the same ways with the addition of moving up or down between the boards."

Reed's eyes gleamed. "Now that would be challenging." Reed moved and T'Pol countered.

"Are you saying that you no longer find my skill level challenging?"

"Not at all, Sub-commander. Check mate." Reed grinned, unable to hide a self-satisfied grin.

T'Pol's lips twitched in response, not quite a smile, and she tipped over her king. "Well played, Lieutenant." She raised a glass of water resting beside her and toasted Reed. "If it would please you, I shall ask someone in engineering to make us a board." T'Pol could not miss Reed's indrawn hiss of breath.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sub-commander. They are very busy in engineering. I'm sure they can't spend their time on, frivolities."

T'Pol took a sip of her water, wondering how far she could go and how far she would be allowed to go. "Lieutenant Reed, there is a matter which we should discuss. I have been reluctant to do so in front of Doctor Phlox, either in or out of your presence, since I was not sure how much he knew."

Here it comes, thought Reed. Best get it over with. He nodded his acceptance.

"I know that we can not be true friends. Trust is a large part of friendship and you will never fully trust me, I accept that. But I am concerned for your well being. I hope you believe that." Reed nodded. "And while we are attempting to put the past behind us," T'Pol gestured around the room encompassing sickbay and the therapy sessions it represented as well as the chessboard representing the progress they had made on a personal level, "I am concerned that your relationship with Commander Tucker has been destroyed because of my actions. If he knew the full circumstances..."

"It wouldn't make a difference." Reed sighed. He looked T'Pol in the eye. "If he knew, now, what happened, I'm sure he'd be devastated. He would, most likely, be very angry with you. He would probably want you court-martialled after all. But that wouldn't be the point." Reed looked away sadly. "The point is, he assumed that I was cheating on him. You said trust was important in a friendship? It's essential in a relationship. And Trip didn't trust me." his voice faded.

T'Pol looked away.

"Would you excuse me, Sub-commander? I am tired and I have an early duty shift tomorrow."

"Of course." T'Pol hesitated. "Do you still wish to continue these sessions?"

"Yes," Reed smiled. "Goodnight, Sub-commander."

"Goodnight, Lieutenant."

"You have made excellent progress, Sub-commander. I believe I can say you are probably the most well-balanced person on this ship." Doctor Phlox shut off his scanner.

"You are very kind, Doctor." T'Pol paused. "Doctor may I ask your advice?"

"I would be glad to help in any way I can."

Now that she had started, T'Pol was suddenly reluctant to continue. At last she said slowly, "There are two crewmembers who were in a personal relationship. Due to a misunderstanding that relationship has ended. I believe that the acrimonious ending of their relationship could affect their performance on duty." It was an equivocation. Neither Tucker, nor Reed had been anything but professional on duty, but T'Pol did not want to invade Lieutenant Reed's privacy any more than she had to, and as First Officer, crew relations did fall under her remit. The fact that few, well, no crewmembers chose to confide in her was not something the doctor needed to know. "Since I have been made acquainted with the circumstances surrounding the misunderstanding, I was wondering if I should intercede and attempt to bring about a reconciliation between the two parties."

"I see. As Lieutenant Reed might say, a 'tricky one'."

T'Pol kept her expression neutral.

"Well, Sub-commander, you are in a better position to judge the temperament of the parties involved and their reaction to any interference. However, I would strongly caution you to think very carefully before taking any action. In my experience meddling in personal matters, no matter how well intentioned, often leads to resentment."

T'Pol nodded. "Thank you for your insight, Doctor. I will consider further." She stood from the biobed, but swayed as a wave of dizziness assaulted her.

"Sub-commander!" Phlox's voice was sharp with alarm as he guided her back down.

"The dizziness will pass momentarily." But the dizziness had been accompanied by a sharp pain in her abdomen which she had never encountered before. She began her breathing exercises to try to master herself.

"It's fortunate that you were here at the time. Now let's see what is causing this."

T'Pol focused on her breathing, answering the doctor's questions about diet, meditation, sleep almost automatically. She hardly noticed that the doctor's tone became more grave with every question.

The situation room was almost full to capacity. Archer, Reed, Sato, Mayweather and Tucker as ordered, were clustered around the console. Only T'Pol was absent.

Enterprise was currently on route to a new planetary system. The ship had encountered a trading vessel from one of the planets a few days before. The contact had been friendly and while the trader did not have enough of the components which Enterprise needed she had assured the captain that her home planet could fill his order.

Not wanting to pass on the opportunity to visit the planet itself, Archer had enthusiastically agreed. It had been Ensign Sato, trailing through the, freely given, alien database to practice her language skills who had voiced some concerns about their next stop.

The system had once been dominated by Nosep Prime, the third planet in the system. Over the years however that control had diminished and the system was now governed by a council of representatives for all eight planets. Sometimes that control slipped. For the last several years there had been increasing tensions in the area as various factions attempted to better their positions. Occasionally the tensions spilled over into violence.

Sato had already given her summation of the history of the system. Mayweather was just finishing up his report on the natural hazards they might encounter on their way.

"...So if we go around the nebula the first planet we will run into..."

"Not literally, I hope." Hoshi added sotto voce.

Travis glared at her, "...is Nosep VI. And according to Ensign Sato," the glare intensified, "Nosep VI is one of the planets which is experiencing frequent difficulties amongst the factions."

"So what are you saying?" Tucker drawled. "They see this nice, shiny new spaceship and take a pot shot at us?"

"That, or attempt to seize our technology for themselves..."

Archer noticed the stiffening of Tucker's spine as Reed spoke.

"...In most respects our technologies are comparable, although we are faster. I have no doubt that our official welcome from Nosep VI would be as warm as the invitation from Nosep Prime, it's the unofficial welcome that worries me."

Tucker snorted. "There's only been eight cases of outside ships being attacked in 15 years. That's out of hundreds of contacts."

"And five of those attacks have been in the last two years, Commander."

Archer settled back on his heels to listen to the 'discussion'. Listening to Trip and Malcolm arguing was much better than arguing with himself. Faster too.

T'Pol blinked and opened her eyes. The pain and dizziness had gone. The breathing exercises had worked. She sat up on the biobed and swivelled around. "Doctor?"

Phlox pulled up a stool and sat down beside her. "Sub-commander, I have found the cause of your faintness. I am sorry to tell you that you have a, a tumour. This tumour is malignant and will need to be removed immediately."

"How can that be, Doctor?"

"Who knows why a tumour forms in any particular tissue? There seems to be no medical reason why one set of cells mutates, nor why some are benign and some are not. I must warn you that this tumour has already affected several of your organs and removal is your only option. Now I believe we should get started straight away..."

"Doctor?"

"...we must not lose any more time. Although it will be a delicate procedure. It is only fair to tell you that I estimate your chances of survival at fifty per cent..."

"Doctor!"

"...but I can guarantee that your chances of survival without the operation are zero. So."

"I would like to see your scans."

Phlox opened his mouth and shut it again.

"Is there any reason why I should not see these scans?"

Phlox regarded her for a moment. "I wish I could think of one," he finally muttered. He displayed the scans.

T'Pol studied them closely. She noted the position of the tumour, the tendrils of tissue attaching to various organs...it was not a tumour.

"Doctor?" her voice had a warning tone.

Phlox passed his hand over his face. "It is dead, Sub-commander. It would not grow to maturity. For whatever reason, the embryo could not survive in your body."

"It should not be possible for cross species fertilisation to take place."

"It is comparatively rare, but not impossible, as we know."

Commander Tucker was brought to mind again and thinking about him brought his ex-partner to the forefront.

"Should I inform Lieutenant Reed?" T'Pol asked tentatively.

Phlox regarded her with a solemn expression. "I see no reason to do so. There is no question that any paternal obligations will be required. The embryo has become a collection of dead cells which have become malignant. Given the rate of septicity in the surrounding tissues, you would be dead before it came to term."

"I see." There really was no choice. "The captain will have to be informed of the operation. I know you are a very competent physician, Doctor Phlox, but it will be a risky procedure."

Phlox nodded. "We shall need to prepare for surgery."

The discussion had been cold. Icy cold. Archer had watched in increasing bewilderment as Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed had argued back and forth with no hint of temper or impatience or heatedness. Only that cool politeness. Archer wondered if he was watching two computers exchanging data.

Archer finally called a halt. "You both make excellent points, gentlemen. I have no desire to see Enterprise become some kind of trophy for one of these factions; however, we should have never left Earth unless we were willing to take some chances. We'll go in. We'll expect the best, and prepare for the worst. Trip, see about increasing the integrity of the hull plating. Malcolm, I want the weapons systems on-line, but powered down. I don't want to scare these people into a pre-emptive strike. Hoshi, brush up on their language. If things do go bottom up, we'll need to communicate fast, we won't be able to rely on the UT. Travis, you know the way..." Archer gestured to the helm and nodded at the chorus of "Sir." he received from his crew.

The officers filed away to their stations. Tucker made straight for the lift.

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

Archer activated the comm. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"I need to see you in sickbay, Sir."

"On my way." Archer closed the connection and looked over to tactical. "You have the bridge, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Sir."

"What can I do for you, Doctor?"

Phlox looked up from his preparations. "We have a very grave situation, Captain. I have detected a tumour in Sub-commander T'Pol necessitating immediate removal. Her chances of survival are 50/50 at best, but we really have no other choice."

Archer almost stepped back a pace. Talk about a bolt from the blue. He looked up.

"Is that it?" he nodded to the monitor and stepped forward.

Phlox inwardly cringed. In his haste to prep the sub-commander for surgery he had inadvertently left her scans displayed on the monitor.

Archer was looking at the display intently. It reminded him of something..."Wait a minute."

Phlox darted around the captain and shut off the monitor.

Archer turned incredulous eyes on the physician. "Is T'Pol having a...an abortion?"

Phlox's eyes flicked beyond the captain's shoulder to where T'Pol had emerged, clad in a surgical gown.

"It is a tumour, Captain. Nothing more, nothing less." Calmly T'Pol settled herself on the biobed. "I am ready to begin, Doctor. Please proceed."

"No. Wait!" Archer moved to her side. "T'Pol, what happened? I know a foetus when I see one. I can't believe you would willingly let this happen..."

"Captain..." Phlox's voice was a growl.

"Were you forced? You must have been. You'd never jeopardise your career on a, a fling. Was it one of the crew? Oh, God, T'Pol, talk to me!"

"There is nothing to discuss." There was almost a crack in her voice.

"Nothing to discuss?" Archer repeated in disbelief. Archer knew his science officer. They might clash, they might disagree, but he respected her. He knew T'Pol would be too careful to run the risk of pregnancy if she was in a relationship, and to him, that left only one alternative. He took a deep breath. "T'Pol, I can see you are resolved to follow through on this operation..."

"You are not helping, Captain." Phlox snapped.

Archer ignored him. "But you must see that if this pregnancy..."

"Tumour." T'Pol hissed through clenched teeth.

Archer ignored her as well, intent on making her see that she could confide in him. "...is the result of an unsolicited liaison, you have a duty to reveal it. What if this man does the same to another woman?"

"I do not believe I can withstand this." T'Pol whispered.

"I must ask you to leave, Captain, you are upsetting my patient."

"T'Pol, please."

"I was the aggressor!" Her mouth snapped shut on the words, her fists clenched, and she retreated into her breathing exercises.

"I insist that you go, Captain." Phlox herded him out of sickbay.

Archer was so dumbstruck that he could not resist. By the time he had recovered his wits the sickbay doors had been sealed.

Enterprise had her components; Earth had a new trading agreement. Neither weapons, nor the hull plating had been required. No thanks to Jonathan Archer. Archer was only too aware that his mind had not been focused on his diplomatic mission, instead it had been focused on his science officer.

It had been five days since T'Pol's surgery. Phlox was at first cautiously optimistic, then more strongly so. His faith had paid off. T'Pol was recovering from her operation. And Archer wanted answers, although he was realistic enough to know that he might not get them.

"Sub-commander?"

T'Pol looked up into the diffident expression on Reed's face. "Lieutenant." She gestured for him to sit.

"How are you feel...doing?" Reed amended.

"I am recovering well, Lieutenant." she paused. "Thank you for asking."

"I thought you might enjoy this." Reed handed her the bulky package he was holding under his arm. "Phlox hinted that you might be here for a while."

T'Pol unwrapped the packaging to reveal a chessboard. As she lifted it two other boards fell like a concertina, followed by a stand. The stand wobbled slightly. Reed darted forward to steady it.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I made it myself. I suppose I should have asked for some help with the design."

T'Pol was quiet. She could feel her emotions bubbling away beneath the surface. "I do not deserve this," she said slowly.

"I think you do."

T'Pol glanced up at him in confusion.

"May I speak frankly, Sub-commander?"

"Of course."

Reed took a deep breath. "I never had a chance to get angry at you, Sub-commander. I was terrified of you, suspicious of you, but before I could blame you, we discovered why you acted the way you did."

"And now you do blame me?"

"No. If anything my respect for you has increased. It took a great deal of determination and strength to overcome your difficulties. And, what I'm trying to say is, I would be proud to call you my friend."

The declaration hung in the air.

T'Pol looked away then back again. "Mr Reed, in general Vulcans do not understand what Humans refer to as 'heart'. But I believe I am beginning to. I am honoured that you wish to be friends, and I will do everything in my power to live up to your high standards."

This time she did not hesitate to offer her hand and Reed had no hesitation in accepting it.

Reed entered his quarters feeling happier than he had for a long time. He was sure that he was getting passed the ordeal and he knew that he and T'Pol were well on their way to regaining and perhaps surpassing their former relationship.

But as he sat on his bed and kicked off his boots he felt his good mood fade. He still missed Trip. Even though he'd tried to stay angry with the engineer, especially when Tucker refused to listen to any explanation, he still missed Trip.

"What would you have done?" he asked the question aloud and it was the first time he'd tried to put himself in Tucker's position.

The debate continued in his mind. "I would have helped him." "Why?" "Because I know that Trip doesn't like bondage and wouldn't have wanted it." "But he knows that you do." "So?" "Trip didn't want to get involved in bondage games, but he knew that you did..."

"Oh, God." Reed moaned aloud. "No wonder Trip was so angry at me. He thought I'd gone to someone else for something he wouldn't give me."

Malcolm thought about the night just two days before the incident. He and Trip had been cuddling in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Enjoying the warmth, the familiarity of each other's bodies and the closeness they shared. And Malcolm had wanted to do something special for their anniversary. Something that they would both enjoy. But Trip had been adamant that he would feel uncomfortable using bondage on Malcolm when he was not willing to have the same done to him. Malcolm had accepted Trip's decision. Their relationship as a whole was more important to him. Perhaps Trip would change his mind one day. And if he did, well and good. If he did not, it didn't matter. As long as he had Trip...

Malcolm almost sobbed at the irony of it. If they had never had that conversation, bondage would not have been in Trip's mind. Tucker would have tried to help him. Malcolm went cold, and perhaps T'Pol would have killed Tucker in her desire to claim her mate.

He shook his head to clear it. Even with his new understanding of Tucker's motivation, he was not sure what good it could do. Tucker was still avoiding him.

"T'Pol?"

"Captain."

"I, I brought you these." Archer held out a stack of PADDs. "Don't worry, it's not ship's business. It's the works of some Earth philosophers. Returning the favour for you giving me the works of Surak."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Captain. Although I would appreciate keeping up to date with the ship's progress."

Did T'Pol sound wistful? Archer cleared his throat. "Look on the second PADD. Under 'Descartes'."

T'Pol followed his instructions. " 'Cogito, ergo sum.'?"

"It's Latin, it means 'I think, therefore I am.' Scroll down."

T'Pol did so and her eyes widened as she saw reports from all the major departments.

"It's just summaries, I'm afraid. I didn't want to overload you."

"Thank you, Captain."

"T'Pol, I wish to apologise to you for my behaviour before your surgery." Archer rushed on. "It was wrong of me to pressure you at such a worrying time. I was out of line and I'm sorry. I guess I was just so shocked."

T'Pol regarded him thoughtfully. She had no desire to stir up past events, but neither could she allow the captain to attempt his own investigations. He was worried for his crew and the thought of that greater good might lead him to make enquiries.

"Captain, please keep what I am about to tell you confidential." She waited for Archer to agree. "Several weeks ago I began to suffer from a neurological imbalance. Under the influence of that imbalance I sexually assaulted a crewman. The imbalance also affected my memory and I did not immediately recall my actions. Had I done so, I would have informed you at the time and accepted any punishment. However, in the intervening time the crewman in question decided, unilaterally, to conceal my crime. He has made it clear that he wants to, forget all about it, and indeed we have made considerable progress in resuming our working relationship. I owe him a great deal." That was an understatement. "I have worked very hard to control my instincts, the doctor does not believe I am a danger to the crew. In this respect at least I have been given a 'clean bill of health'."

"I take it, it was his?"

"Yes."

"Does he know?"

"No. By the time the doctor discovered my pregnancy it was too late. The cells had already degraded. I did not see the logic in inflicting further distress on Mr...the crewman."

Archer's gut was churning. "I find all this very difficult to believe."

"Nevertheless." T'Pol paused. "What will you do now, Captain?"

Archer had to drag himself back to the present. "Uh? Do? Nothing, I guess. That's what you all want."

There was a bitterness in his tone which T'Pol did not understand. "It is for the best, sir."

"Yeah right. Enjoy your reading." Archer turned to go, but looked back as he reached the threshold. "Why did you not tell me?" his voice was almost pleading.

"The other party did not wish it."

Archer nodded. "Goodnight, T'Pol."

"Goodnight, Captain."

Archer walked slowly away from sickbay. He felt as if the universe had suddenly flipped round on him when he wasn't looking. Up was down. Right was left. Black was white. And he knew it was petty and beneath him, but he couldn't help but feel hurt that he had been kept in the dark. He was the goddamned Captain, for Christ's sake.

Phlox and T'Pol were an integral part of his command staff. He had to rely on them, trust them. That they had concealed this from him rocked him to his core.

But then, as T'Pol said, the victim did not want it to become public.

Archer could not understand that. Surely the first thing a junior crewman would do was report it. Of course there would be embarrassment, humiliation, but Archer prided himself on being approachable. Being there for all his crew from the stewards in the mess hall to his command staff.

"How d'you know it was junior crewman?" the thought nudged him.

It had to be a junior. T'Pol was second in command, and she hadn't attacked him! By definition the victim was a subordinate.

"Leaves a helluva lot of possibles, Jonny." "No shit." he muttered aloud. And then he pulled up short in the corridor thinking of the last few weeks. The changes he had seen in his command staff, in Tucker and Reed. "God no. Not one of them, please." He broke into a jog. He had to check on his friend.

By the time Archer had reached Tucker's quarters he had calmed down a bit.

What would he have said? "Hey, Trip, I just got the first round of the regionals. You up for a bit of water polo, and by the way, did T'Pol rape you?" No. Besides, he was beginning to think that Trip was not the victim. It was Reed who had watched T'Pol, Reed who wanted to resign and Reed who had changed his mind.

But Archer needed his friend's advice. He would have to make it as hypothetical as he could. If Lieutenant Reed was the victim Archer had no intention of breaking into the man's privacy, or breaking his promise to T'Pol.

Archer rang the chime.

Tucker had noticed that in the last few weeks his ability to get his paperwork finished had diminished. Probably because his mind had a tendency to drift off, sometimes for hours at a time. Remembering laughter and arguments with Malcolm. Jokes and pranks with Malcolm. Making love with Malcolm. Even his attempts to stay angry with Malcolm were half-hearted now. All he felt was a core deep weariness.

The chime at his door intruded and sighing Tucker crossed to open it.

"Captain?" The captain looked troubled, Tucker thought.

"Trip. You got a minute?"

"Sure, come in." Tucker stood aside and gestured for the captain to enter. "What can I do for you, Cap'n?"

Jon settled himself down. "Bend your ear? Get some advice? Beer if you've got it?"

Tucker chuckled softly. "For you, Jon, I think I can manage that." With ranks firmly out of the way, Tucker crossed to the small fridge and pulled out two bottles. He handed one to Jon. They popped the tops off and clunked the necks, taking a swallow. "So, what's on your mind?"

Archer took another sip of his beer. "I got to thinking, Trip. We're going to be out here for a long time. And we're going to end up getting to know each other pretty well. There's eighty-three people on board, and barring accidents, it's going to stay that way. The further we go, the less likely it is that we'll meet other humans and the more likely it is that we'll turn to each other for companionship."

Trip almost choked on his beer and tried to make a joke to hide his embarrassment. "I know we're friends, Jon..."

Archer waved his bottle, a half smile on his face. "Not you and me, Trip. I think I know you well enough to know your preferences."

A sharp dagger of ice twisted in Tucker's heart at that. Something else he had to thank Malcolm for. Malcolm had been uncomfortable with having their relationship in the public domain. Hoshi had only found out by accident, but even when she had, Malcolm had been terrified of the captain finding out. Trip had tried to reassure Malcolm that Jon would not care, now listening to his friend he was ashamed to find himself wondering if he had been right.

"No, I was thinking of fraternisation in general. And all the problems when it goes wrong..."

"There are regulations, Jon."

"Sure, but there's a lot of scope within those regulations. I can't ban onboard romances, hell I don't want to. But if a couple have a bad break up..."

"As long as they keep it professional."

"C'mon, Trip. You know how these things can go. And how small a ship Enterprise is. A person can't just take off if they need some personal time."

"True." How true that was. "Maybe your best defence is simple arithmetic. The guys out number the gals. We're not all suddenly going to start pairing up."

Archer glanced at him over the rim of his bottle. "Don't be so old- fashioned, Trip. Even in Starfleet same-sex relationships are accepted. I know of two couples at Headquarters, although, come to think of it, only one of them is 'out'..." Archer did not notice Tucker turning away to hide his blush. "...but that's not the point either. I'm talking about Enterprise. What happens if it all goes wrong, who can the crew turn to for support?"

"Their friends, of course."

"I guess, but some of the guys don't want to sweat the personal stuff with their buddies. Not part of the image."

Tucker wondered if Jon had been granted telepathy. "There's always you or the doctor, or T'Pol." He almost did not sneer her name. That was progress.

"Yeah, but, I'm the Captain. It's not realistic to think that everybody would feel comfortable talking to me about personal matters, in fact it's a given they'd be distinctly uncomfortable talking to me about personal matters. As for the doctor, he means well, but he's a, well a research kind of guy. He'd always be looking for a solution. Not just being there, know what I mean? And T'Pol? I can't see any of the crew confiding in her about their emotions. That'd be like taking your dog to the dentist because it's got fleas."

Tucker snorted. "You're being too hard on her, Jon. She may hide behind that cool exterior, but she's got the urges just like the rest of us." He could not keep the bitter note from his tone.

Archer gasped quietly, perhaps he had been wrong in his deductions.

"What do you mean, Trip?" Archer kept his expression composed. Inwardly he was beginning to seethe. If T'Pol had hurt Trip, he wouldn't give a damn about any understanding. He'd quite happily rip her throat out.

"Doesn't matter." Tucker waved his bottle in dismissal.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Tucker looked into the earnest expression of his friend's eyes. It was too much. Suddenly all the anger, the pain, the loss...it was all too much. His head sank down and the bottle dangled almost forgotten between his knees.

"I'll kill her. Swear to God, Trip, I'll kill her." Archer jumped up and began to pace. "How could she do this to you?"

Tucker looked up at him in shock. "You knew?"

"I only worked it out just now. Some friend I turned out to be uh? Well, she's not going to get away with this. I don't care about any 'neurological imbalance', I don't care if it's fixed, she's not staying on board."

Tucker was taken aback by Archer's vehemence. "Whoa there, Jon. It takes two to tango, right?"

Archer whirled on him, finger pointing. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare try to excuse her. She told me. She told me she forced you. And don't play the damn martyr with me either, Trip. What she did was wrong."

Tucker had gone very pale. "She told you...she forced..."

Archer knelt beside his friend. "Oh, Trip. I'm so sorry. So sorry. I, I guess I haven't been much of a friend for you, have I?" He drew Tucker into a comforting embrace. "Why didn't you tell me, Trip?"

Tucker leaned away from Archer, his face a picture of abject misery. "Malcolm didn't want you to know. And now you're tellin' me she forced him? I thought...Jesus, Jon, I left them to it! I left him to her! Fuck, what have I done?" Trip buried his face in Jon's chest.

Archer kept up a soothing back pat while his friend sobbed into his uniform. The universe had tipped again. Oh, he was batting a thousand tonight all right.

At last Tucker stirred and pulled away from the captain, wiping at his face. "Sorry." he mumbled. "It's been rough."

"Yeah." Archer could only imagine. "So, you and Malcolm are a couple?"

"Were. Past tense. When I saw them together, I just saw red, Jon. On our goddamned anniversary and he's playing away from home. At least that's what I thought he was doing."

"What a mess, uh?"

"Total fuck up." Trip agreed gloomily.

"Ow!" There was the flat sound of a body hitting the exercise mat.

Mayweather hustled forward, contrition on his face. "Hoshi, are you alright?"

Reed pedalling furiously on the exercise bike, watched in the mirror with a feral grin as Sato hooked her leg behind the helmsman's knees and brought him down. He'd taught her that.

"Got ya." Sato bounded up from the mat.

"You...you...horrible person you." Travis grimaced and moved his hand to the small of his back. "You really hurt me," he moaned.

Hoshi was not falling for it. She knew she'd performed the move expertly, besides she could see the twinkle in Mayweather's eye.

"We'd better get you to Phlox." she said briskly, keeping her distance. "I hear he's got some Nosepian spiders he's just waiting for a chance to use."

Travis jumped up. "You are a cruel, cruel woman," he admonished. "Hey, Lieutenant. Is it too late to sign up for those self-defence classes?"

"It's never too late, Ensign. Anyway, even if it was, I'd make an exception for you." Reed slowed his movements and wiped his face. "You obviously need them."

All three officers laughed, although Reed's laughter was a little strained. It still rankled him that he had not been able to best T'Pol the one time it had really mattered. However, perhaps that was one lesson he should be teaching in his self-defence classesâ€”all the training in the galaxy could not beat overwhelming odds or bad luck.

"You got that right." Travis grinned. "I'm going to hit the showers and massage my bruised ego." He picked up his towel. "Mess hall? Thirty minutes?" he included both officers in the invitation.

"Sure."

"I'll be there."

Mayweather headed out but Sato lingered for a few moments as Reed gathered his workout gear.

"Malcolm?" she asked carefully.

"Yes, Hoshi?"

Sato chose to ignore the polite mask of curiosity on the lieutenant's face. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Hoshi." Reed went to move passed her, but Sato held her ground.

"I meant between you and Trip." she persisted. "You've both been so distant lately. I've been worried."

Reed sighed. Sato was the only crewmember who had known about the two's relationship and that was only because they had not expected anybody to be prowling round the corridors at four in the morning. Reed and Tucker had been sharing a lingering 'goodbye' at Tucker's door when Hoshi discovered them. He never did ask why she was wandering around at that time of night. Reed gestured to the bench and the pair sat down.

"We went our separate ways, Hoshi."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm."

Reed nodded. "So am I. But these things happen."

"Have you...?"

"Hoshi, please. Don't start, okay? It's over. I'm just beginning to get my head around the fact. I don't want to keep re-hashing it."

"Okay, Malcolm." she patted his knee. "Any time you need to talk, you know where I am." She smiled and headed towards the showers.

Malcolm smiled and his heart warmed up another degree. Enterprise was his home. People did care about him, and he cared about them. All it needed to make it idyllic was Trip.

Before regret could rear its ugly head, Reed headed for the showers. He had an appointment to keep.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Trip?"

"Nope." Tucker locked the door behind them and turned to face his friend. "I have to tell him that I'm sorry."

Archer nodded and clasped Tucker's shoulder. "Good Luck." He moved away to his own quarters.

Tucker took a deep breath and headed to his former lover's cabin. How many times had he made this walk? Sometimes with Malcolm, regurgitating the most mundane of business in case they were over heard. Sometimes skulking along in case he was discovered.

He reached the door and rang the chime. There was no answer. He tried again. Still no answer.

Moving to the side he did a quick location check and found that Reed was in the mess hall.

Tucker bit his lip considering his options. Then on the off chance he entered in his code. The door slipped open and Tucker was heartened. Reed had not totally locked him out.

Tucker stepped in to the cabin, noticing that Reed had changed around all the furniture which could be moved. He sat down to wait. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than a confrontation in public.

Malcolm had enjoyed the evening with Travis and Hoshi. It was nice to put everything away for the night and just have some fun. He entered in his new code and stepped into his room, drawing back sharply. There was someone there. "Computer, lights!" He stepped back another pace when he saw Commander Tucker jerking awake in his desk chair.

"C-C-Commander?" Reed cursed the stutter, but he'd got a fright.

"Shit, I didn't mean to fall asleep." Tucker looked up beseechingly. "Can we talk, Malcolm?"

Reed took a deep breath and advanced into the room. "Okay." he said slowly. Perhaps he was dreaming again. The door hissed shut behind him.

"I know what happened, Malcolm. I'm sorry that you went through that. If I'd just...Well, I'm sorry I didn't help you." He looked up. "But most of all I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you. I let my own damn pride get in the way. And it cost us."

"How did you find out?" Reed's voice was dull.

Tucker shrugged. "Crossed wires. T'Pol told the captain, without giving any names," he added hastily when he saw Reed's frown, "the captain thought it was me and I, kinda spilled my guts about us."

"Right." There was still no emotion in Reed's voice.

"Do you think you can forgive me, Malcolm?"

Reed finally looked at him. "I suppose so," he said quietly. He'd already more or less forgiven his attacker. T'Pol had said he had 'heart'; surely it was big enough to bring Trip back to him. "But, can we take it slow? Get back to being Trip and Malcolm, instead of Commander and Lieutenant?"

"Whatever you want, Malcolm."

Silence descended. Not the comfortable silence they had shared before. Reed broke it. "Care for a night cap, Trip?" He reached into his locker and pulled out a bottle of brandy.

"I'd like that, Malcolm."

It was a start.

> Sleep demands of us a guilty immunity. There is not one of us who, given an eternal incognito, a thumbprint nowhere set against our souls, would not commit rape, murder and all abominations.
> 
> â€”Djuna Barnes, 1892-1982, 'Nightwood,' chap. 5.


End file.
